Greg Veder vs The World: Canon Sidestories
by ZFighter18
Summary: A collection of canonical sidestories from the Greg Veder vs The World universe. Enjoy!
1. What Could Have Been

**What Could Have Been **

– **o – o – o – o – o – o – o – **

So, the original ending for this story would have been right after he left out to go fight the first Quest. It would have had three paths.

**Bad End: **_Scene is like the opening from like SVU or something where cops find the naked body of a blond kid shoved in a dumpster in Merchant territory with stab wounds. E88 takes it as a sign of war from the Merchants and Greg Veder becomes a semi-martyr in the eyes of the Empire as a gang war breaks out with Kaiser killing Skidmark personally.  
_  
**Neutral End: **_Greg ends up forced into the PRT's hands after getting caught using lethal force on a Merchant. The Wards limit his growth and don't allow him to wound himself to the extent he would like to and nor do they let him fight villains considering he has no training yet. Ergo, he dies fighting Leviathan due to having very little time and means to ramp up to any reasonable level. Think Captain America without the requisite skill against Leviathan.  
_  
**Good End: **_The good end actually begins with Greg waiting till the end of the day instead of going out to fight the Merchants, where he tells his mother about his powers and decides to live a relatively normal life. To him, this means dumping all his first few points into WIS and CHA while grinding INT. Within a week or two, he's finished with his GED and ready to enter college. Come Golden Morning, his mom and Sparky's family have escaped Earth Bet with hundreds of millions of others in a universe-sliding ark he created through researching Professor Haywire's tinker tech due to his interest in Earth Aleph Media. They land on a new uninhabited earth and with all his CHA, WIS, INT and related perks solely along those paths he was able to gain due to creating advanced medication to fix his problem, Greg Veder basically becomes the God Emperor of Mankind with nearly all that entails._

_**But all that was before I decided to continue this fic with Tutorial 1.6, so those paths are NOT HAPPENING, if you all couldn't already tell. If you want to write those as Omakes, go right ahead.**_


	2. Taylor's View (Buff 3-7)

**Taylor's View (Buff 3.7)**

– **o – o – o – o – o – o – o – **

Taylor stopped as she was about to get on the bus, her bug sense noticing a crowd over by the old basketball courts.

_Not my problem_, she thought, until she heard the chant of "Sophia! Sophia! Sophia!" coming from that direction. "Definitely not my problem." she muttered. Still, it was a rather large crowd, and curiosity got the better of her. Some carefully placed gnats showed that there were two people surrounded by the rest.

_Sophia's fighting someone... wait, is she fighting GREG? He actually showed up?_

With morbid fascination she started edging toward the court, based on the way her gnats seemed to be moving, Greg was getting his ass handed to him. One advantage to her height was she didn't have to try and push through the crowd to get a decent view.

Just in time to see him drop Sophia like a sack of potatoes.

_Holy fuck..._

_That didn't just happen._ Taylor thought, quickly heading back to the bus stop. _That was... Scion himself couldn't have delivered a miracle better._

Still, Taylor was smiling the rest of the way home.


	3. Throne of Heroes I

**Throne of Heroes I: A Hero's Summoning (Future X-Over with Fate/Stay Night)**

– **o – o – o – o – o – o – o – **

His legs simply moved forward in a dead sprint, the single-minded instinct of _'RUN! HIDE! RUN!' _overwhelming his thoughts. As he scrambled forward, his body running on pure instinct and utterly animalistic fear, the fear of death preventing him from doing anything else. Mind nearly lost to fear and the desire to escape, Shirou was entirely unprepared for the blue figure that suddenly appeared at his side, materializing in a shower of tiny blue lights like some sort of ghost.

Shirou's eyes widened and he made to dodge, but to his hunter, he might as well have been utterly frozen in place. A mouth of sharp teeth opened in a bloodthirsty grin and the man in blue spun in place, extending his leg as he did so.

The boy was flung into the shed, the force of the blue creature's kick nearly enough to shatter his ribs by itself. Shirou let out a pained gasp as he hit the ground, audibly groaning as he tumbled head over heels further into the cluttered shed. Without a doubt, he was bruised all over but he couldn't stop moving. He couldn't let himself die.

Not again.

He didn't want to die.

He had to live.

To become a hero.

To die without saving a single person… _what kind of hero was that?_

Grunting, Shirou pulled himself up, only to fall back on his elbows as he tried to clamber to his feet. As he hit the ground again, he winced as the harsh impact jarred his bones, his body still suffering from the previous powerful blow. His flailing hands grabbed onto a blank poster-board, Shirou instinctively applying Reinforcement to it in lieu of another, more capable item to use as a weapon.

The rush of wind at his back screamed in his ears, announcing his killer's arrival and he lunged forward, twisting around as he unfurled the Reinforced poster-board in front of him. In a burst of light, the makeshift shield exploded into fragments of useless paper and Shirou was launched forward again from the sheer force of it.

Heart beating like a rabbit's, Shirou Emiya trembled in both pain and fear as he stared up at the admittedly handsome face of his attacker, a ponytail of blue hair blowing with the wind at his back. "It's too bad, kid." The blue-haired spearman glanced down at him, a vicious smirk on his lips. He spun his lance, ending his flourish by resting the barbed weapon on his neck and shoulders. "You've got conviction, guts, a real fight in ya… I bet you could have been a hell of a fighter in your prime."

The lancer twisted his weapon again, spinning it into his hands in a series of movements that Shirou could barely track. His grip tightened around the lance as he pointed the tip at Shirou, his blood still dripping from the weapon. "Any last words?"

Shirou stared up at him, raw anger and determination clear in his eyes.

"When I was young," the auburn-haired boy placed a single hand over his heart as he stared daggers at his assailant, "the previous version of me died in an accident. I was saved by the most valiant act of heroism I could ever comprehend." His other hand clenched at his side, blood dripping from his tightened fist onto the floor. "I'm never letting that feeling go. I'm never letting it die!"

As the blood dripped onto the floor, a blue glow began to shine from behind Shirou, a circle etched onto the floor responding to his unintended aria as the hand clenched to his chest began to subtly shine as well, an esoteric mark etching itself onto his hand. "Even if my body dies, the image in my mind of that hero will live on! And as long as I'm here, I'll be the vessel that becomes that image! _And save everyone in front of me_!"

There was dead silence after Shirou made his emotional proclamation, fire still in his eyes as the superhuman killer stared him down, his head tilted in amusement. "Those are some spirited last words, kid. Still… spirited or not, it's time to say goodbye."

The blue spearman raised his weapon, lifting it back as the mark on Shirou's hand flared brightly, finally completing the image of three curving lines coming together to form a stylized letter "A."

Lancer's red eyes widened as the light caught his eye, realizing what that mark meant. "_No!" _Screaming at the top of his lungs, he plunged the bloody spear forward on a direct path for Shirou's furiously beating heart.

For a single instant, Shirou stared at the approaching tip of the crimson spear, the world essentially frozen in time in his mind. _I can't! I won't! I'm not going to die like this! _Still, there was nothing he could do to-

"_PLAYER ONE HAS ENTERED THE GAME!"_

"You've gotta be kidding me!_"_

An explosion of light flared into existence, blinding Shirou as a powerful burst of wind filled the shed and forced him to shut one of his eyes, the teen's arms raised over his face instinctively to protect himself from the elements.

The sound of steel meeting steel in a violent clash rang out in the enclosed space, the blue spearman letting out a surprised curse as something slammed into him with audible force. Just like that, the wannabe murderer was sent flying out of the shed as if shot from a cannon.

"Holy crap on a cracker, was that _Lancer?_" questioned another voice. "That was actually Lancer… _dope._"

As quickly as he could, Shirou blinked the dust from his eyes as he tried to catch sight of where it came from. "Who…"

The words fell from his lips, utterly forgotten as Shirou stared up at the form of his rescuer, bright blonde hair and mirthful blue eyes staring down at him with a smile that seemed to shine with a brilliance all it's own. Silver and blue armor framed his body, the heroic knight holding aloft a pulsing, golden sword as he stood in the doorway of the shed, moonlight framing his face like an angel's halo.

"Yo, Shirou, it's you! Guess you're my Master, huh?" The resplendent knight broke the silence, barely-repressed laughter audible in every syllable as he tilted his head to stare down at the boy that remained on his knees. "Don't worry, buddy, I won't let mean ol' Mister Lancer get you!"

Spinning on his heels, the blond turned his back to Shirou as he thrust his hands up in the air excitedly. "Talk about a Special Event Quest! A hero against Heroic Spirits! A battle for the ages starring the new King of Knights himself!" Throwing his head back, the self-proclaimed "King of Knights" let out a deep laugh, one that nearly came off as maniacal more than it was joyful.

"Man, this Grail War is gonna be _smashing!_" The armored hero did a little dance as he spoke, his voice taking on something of a posh British accent at the end, before launching himself out of the shed in a burst of displaced air. "Tally-Ho and away we go!"

As dust and blue motes of magical light continued to dance around him, the third-rate magus simply blinked in the wake of the giddy knight's disappearance, unable to comprehend what had just occurred.

"...what."


	4. What If: A Darker Path I

**What If: A Darker Path I**

– **o – o – o – o – o – o – o – **

**APRIL 12, 2011**  
**1:23 AM EDT**

The alley was dark, much like the rest of the streets in this part of the Brockton Bay Docks.

Really, it would have been entirely pitch-black if it wasn't for a single light bulb perched high above a door that led to a building owned by whatever unfortunate soul dumb enough to buy property in Merchant territory.

The only source of light in the alley fought to stay on for longer than a few seconds at a time, the thing flickering like a massive firefly. Even then, it might have been better if it just died. While the encroaching blackness that filled most of the Docks at night was more than intimidating enough on its own, darkness warning the decent people that criminals and scum would soon be roaming the night, the barely-there and intermittent illumination the light bulb provided added another level of uncertainty to the entire equation, making this alley a bit more nerve-wracking than most.

The darkness _was_ terrifying, true. Still, light like this only served the purpose of making the things in the dark feel alive, what with the ways the shadows shifted and shook under the unsteady lighting. And as some people in Brockton Bay could attest to in these last few weeks, the creatures hiding in the dark were very much alive.

That didn't seem to bother some others, though. After all, it's well known that in nearly any imaginable situation, there will always be those few that were either too stupid or too optimistic to heed common sense, continuing on whatever their path may be, regardless of whether or not that path put them directly into a dangerous situation.

Case in point, the blond boy walking down the alley right now with a playful rhythm to his steps and a gait far too unguarded for anyone near a gang-held territory of any sort. Snapping his fingers to the beat that pounded through his ears, Greg Veder hummed along to the song on the cassette tape player in his pocket, an 80s antique that his mother had no problem letting him have. His other hand was hidden in the depths of his baggy hoodie's front pockets, a slight bulge showing up around near his stomach on occasion as he played with the object he had hidden inside.

Greg Veder knew, on an intellectual level, that he really shouldn't be in the Docks right now. After all, the PRT had done a very good job in informing the public of the suspected parahuman serial killer going around on a killing spree throughout gang territory. Bloody scenes were found every night with gore painting the floor and walls, bodies torn apart, ripped to shreds, and occasionally beaten to death without leaving a single scrap of evidence that could lead to an identity… a true master of their blood-curdling craft. With a body count estimated to be in the triple digits already, this person would have to be a rather powerful parahuman to accomplish all this in just a few weeks.

Really, any rational person would have felt nervous, scared even, of what this news could mean for them or their family. Rather than feeling terrified or nervous, though, Greg couldn't help but feel a deep sense of interest. After all, how close could the authorities _really _be to locating the culprit? Hell, would they ever be able to find this guy? The blond seriously doubted it. _Man, BBPD couldn't find a twelve-foot dildo if it was shoved up their collective assholes._

Rectal proclivities of the police force aside, Greg really only saw this as an opportunity to farm more experience while the boys in blue were running around like chickens with their heads missing. While aware of how callous that sounded in his own head, Greg didn't really care all that much. In fact, strangely enough, he found himself caring less and less every day about what he did while chasing experience points,

The odd serenity that Gamer's Mind seemed to emanate on a constant basis seemed to come with a side effect that Greg had been doing his best to stave off, a constant feeling of numbness. Almost every smile, every laugh…

_Hell,_ most of the time, nearly every single emotion felt hollow without Greg emphasizing the moment in his head with some sort of skill gain or, on occasion, a fight. It was maddening how pointless doing something like playing a video game felt when it didn't actually _do _anything for him. Any sense of accomplishment or achievement he felt from beating it didn't really mean anything when he could get that same rush times a thousand from just slamming a hammer down on his thumb over and over and _over_ for the better part of a minute.

Or, at least that _used_ to be the case. Nowadays, a minute was just as pointless as playing the stupid game, whatever type of game it was. It tended to be RPG's, for whatever reason. Those always felt the most boring.

As he neared the midpoint of the alley, Greg paused both his thoughts and his steps, stopping right before the area where the flickering light bulb lit up the brightest. A hand went down to his pocket, clicking the pause button on the outdated music device, and a moment later, he pulled the old-style headphones from his hair carefully, allowing the device to rest around his neck.

He blinked a moment later, eyes flashing from sky blue to a bright gold for an instant, another blink returning his iris to normal. The boy's smile grew into a grin, this time his eyes lighting up in a wholly figurative manner.

"I know you're there."

The alley remained still, silent apart from slight noises that could be dismissed as the scurrying of rats and other pests. In a way, that was true.

"Seriously, there's no point hiding. I can see you." Greg raised a hand, pointing directly at the overflowing dumpster over on the right. "Yes, you, the one behind the dumpster. And you, the one by the empty boxes. Also, you two… _seriously_?"

Greg's eyes flicked over to a set of discarded mannequins stacked up against the filthy alley wall as he let out a snorting laugh, eyes filled with mirth. "Who do you think you're fooling with that?" His gaze flicked back and forth between the three locations, iris flashing between gold and blue in between blinks, faster than any normal person could catch. "Seriously, did you think I was just going to let you ambush me? Are all Merchants this stupid or what?"

The alley remained silent, leaving Greg looking like a crazy person as he continued to berate the seemingly empty walls with a wide smile on his face. Then, the vague rustling noises shifted into sounds of audible movement, movement of something _much_ larger than rats coming from several different locations.

_Huh, six of them? _The blond raised an eyebrow. _Guess my count was off._

Almost as one, several figures rose from the darkness of the alley, shambling forward like zombies. Considering what they _actually_ were, the phrase zombies wouldn't be too far off. With all the drugs in their system, they were only a little better than the living dead. The six men, all of them in torn, ratty, and just generally filth-covered clothing, stepped into the shuddering spotlight, most of them visibly armed.

Greg's gaze snapped down to the one on the far right, his eyes tracking the rusted weapon in his grip with interest. _Wow, a machete. I'm feeling nostalgic all of a sudden._

He raised his head, giving the men in front of him an uninterested expression that seemed to display as much bored contempt as Greg could muster. "Let me guess, you were gonna rob me, beat me up and possibly stab me a few times, weren't you?" He let out a snort, rolling his eyes with expertise. "Merchants gotta merch, I guess. I wonder what it feels like to be considered scum in a city with plenty of Nazis."

**Taunt Lvl Up!  
21→22**

One of them rushed forward, screaming profanities and invectives at Greg just like he expected. The Merchant in question, an older man with a filthy, matted beard, screamed something Greg couldn't make out and swung a dirt-covered pipe at his head. With supreme ease, Greg leaned back and to the side, watching as the look on the old man's face switched from belligerent to confused.

As he recovered from his confusion, the man swung his pipe again only to jerk to a stop as the bludgeoning tool refused to move. He glanced down at the weapon to see a pair of gloved fingers holding tight to the metal, his gaze tracking the fingers back over to Greg as he blinked in confusion for several reasons.

The hand inside his hoodie tensed as Greg's hand surged from his pocket. Before he could open his mouth again or attempt to strike once more, the Merchant's hands rushed to his throat, red seeping through his fingers as he fell to his knees. Weapon discarded, it fell to the floor with a metallic clang, scattering across the floor.

"Total slaughter, total slaughter.  
I won't leave a single man alive."

Greg stepped to the side, continuing to grin at the other Merchants as he brought the blade of his knife down again in a much slower movement, driving it directly into the top of the bearded Merchant's skull. With a sick _squelch_, he pulled it free and flicked the serrated knife in a blurring movement, blood flying from the blade and scattering against the wall. His smile dissapeared, a bored look appearing on his face again.

"La de da de dai, Genocide.  
La de da de duh, An ocean of blood."

Greg took several steps forward, walking towards the now-frightened Merchants as their bearded friend finally fell to the floor in a pool of his own fluids. The blond's disinterested expression shifted into another bright grin, eyes flashing a bright gold and staying that way.

"_Let's begin the killing time._"

– **o – o – o – o – o – o – o –**


	5. Dragon's Perspective (Aggro 4-14)

**Dragon's Perspective (Aggro 4.14)**

**– o – o – o – o – o – o – o – **

Retrieving Archived Conversation.

Date: April 12, 2011

Time: Between 1:30 PM and 6:30 PM

Folder: Parahuman Testing

Find in File: Greg Lucas Veder, Armsmaster, Collin Wallis

Files Retrieved:

Parahuman Testing of Greg Lucas Veder, Results Negative.

Opening File

Greg Lucas Veder: _**Observe.**_

Collin Wallis: _**Mr. Veder.**_

Greg Lucas Veder: _**What?**_

Fast Forward

Play

Collin Wallis: _**-ould you classify hot? Is there a way to quantify a measure of hotness?**_

Greg Lucas Veder: _**I, I don't know. At least, I don't... I don't think so.**_

Fast Forwarding

Play

Greg Lucas Veder: _**You do that.**_

Collin Wallis: _**Well for starters, are we measuring romantic compatibility or is it simple attraction.**_

Greg Lucas Veder: _**...What?**_

Collin Wallis: _**Do they have to be attractive in a sense that you can realistically date them, or is that not included in the measurement of 'hotness'?**_

Greg Lucas Veder: _**I... guess not?**_

Collin Wallis: _**Good, that excludes a highly subjective point and would make it easier for the assessment...**_

"Finally found it," Dragon muttered. she had heard around the base about some kind of assessment that Collin had made. At first, she wasn't interested in such a thing, but when even Assault was talking about it, her curiosity got the better of her and asked about it from Piggot.

Admittedly, her initial reaction of shock may have been a slight overreaction over the knowledge of her Tinker partner doing an assessment of what made a Cape hot. But it wasn't really an overreaction.

Besides, she was just curious and wanted to know who, on an objective standpoint, was the 'Hottest' Cape.

That was it, just curiosity.


End file.
